


The perfect gift

by Ariana (Ariana_El)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Almost Crack fic, F/M, shameless fluff, shameless sherlolly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 18:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariana_El/pseuds/Ariana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is always a perfect gift for everybady, for every ocasion. Pure fluff Sherlolly stuff, a bit crack fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The perfect gift

**The perfect gift**

                A serial killer, three victims, locked rooms, almost no tracks – a perfect case. Moreover, the killer decided to kidnap his fourth victim, so it was essential to find her, before all they could do would be to bury her.

                Sherlock was delighted. It was his second night without sleep and third day on caffeine diet, there was a lot to do and Sherlock was in his top form. Wonderland. But right now he was quite determined to end this case before five o’clock. He was a bit in a hurry.

                So he growled at everybody. At the mother of the kidnapped girl, a kind and tearful woman, at the too slow cab driver, at the policemen and at Greg, who followed him step by step. The inspector was somehow distressed, as if he was more and more sure that involving Sherlock Holmes in that particular case was a big mistake.

                “Do hurry up, I have a wedding to attend to,” explained the irritated detective, when Sally Donovan asked him what on Earth his problem was.

***

                To be honest, Molly Hooper was ready to hug Greg for giving Sherlock that demanding case, as if the murderer appeared on as a response for their silent wishes. Of course, the pathologist knew her line of thinking was a bit improper, but she couldn’t help herself. Just like Sherlock had done great job arranging John’s wedding, this time he was unbearable. So these three days of the detective’s absence were a little miracle and allowed them to handle everything without Sherlock’s constant comments and his playing violin at ungodly hours.

                Also Sherlock, bored beyond imagination by the two-week stagnation in interesting cases, was happy like a child on Christmas Day. It was nice just watching him so delighted.

                Well, Molly didn’t watch too long, as the detective disappeared soon after receiving call from Greg, and didn’t show himself much since then.

                The only thing Molly was worried about a bit, except obvious things like her dress, hairstyle, makeup, guests, EVERYTHING, was Sherlock not coming back in time. She hoped he would, he promised her that, and even he had enough decency not to disappoint her today.

***

                Half pas three, half of the success. They had found the victim still alive, just frightened. But unfortunately, the killer escaped as soon as he heard the police coming.

                Sherlock rushed after him, of course.

                The adrenaline almost made him fly through the narrow streets by the river. Turn left, then go ahead, then through a shop and a storage room... Sherlock kept seeing his escaper, then losing him from his sight for a moment, only to see him again. He knew Lestrade was organizing police raid at the moment, so if he just kept tiring the murderer, he would soon be caught.

                A quarter later Sherlock was slightly panting, and the euphoria from finding the victim in time and almost finishing the case was slowly being replaced by frustration,  increased by constant vibration of his phone. The detective couldn’t take it and answer, he suspected it was either John or Molly calling. Possibly Greg.

                He really did want to fulfill his promise. He knew he was usually forgiven lots of things, but if he was late today, he suspected that even Mycroft wouldn’t be able to protect him from Molly’s revenge. Sherlock could pass all the responsibilities on John, but his presence at the wedding was really irreplaceable. Just a bit further...

                 Yes! The escaper stumbled and Sherlock threw himself at him, using that moment to shorten the distance. Immobilize him, keep him, wait for Lestrade... Nothing difficult. Except for the fact that the murderer had a knife. Sherlock learned that a moment later, when the blade went down his ribs. He sneaked out and pinned him to the ground, leaving no place for further attack.

***

                Running after the murderer and Holmes through the streets, inspector Lestrade cursed the moment that case landed on his desk. John had called him five times already, more and more agitated by the lack of response from Sherlock. And all Greg could do was to assure the doctor that he would reach Sherlock any moment now, and he would force him to call John back. And they would try not to be late.

                Sherlock sat on their murderer, who already had handcuffs around his wrists, grinning like a maniac, very pleased with himself. When he saw the police, he stood up and glanced impatiently at his watch.

                “It’s high time,” he noticed. “We should be there in time... Do you happen to have a clean shirt for me?”

                “No, I don’t...” Only then did Greg see the red spots on Sherlock’s white, now torn shirt. “Jesus, seriously? Today, of all days?”

                “It’s just a scratch,” Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, still excited by the chase.

                Lestrade opened his shirt and skeptically took a closer look. Fortunately, Sherlock was telling the truth this time, the cut was shallow and harmless. Anyway, it needed some basic treatment.

                Sally brought a first aid kit from the police car, while Sherlock phoned back to John to calm him. Greg used his motionlessness to tend to the cut. Holmes seemed to pay him no attention at all.

                “Next time remind me not to agree to such things,” muttered Greg, fighting with gauze and plasters.

                “Why? Geoffrey, that was the best wedding gift I could imagine!” The smile on Sherlock’s face was genuine and the detective looked happy, so Greg didn’t even bother to correct him.

                Sally Donovan, on the other hand, choked in surprise and almost dropped the first aid kit she was holding.

                “You didn’t mention you don’t want to be late on _your own_ wedding!”

                “I didn’t find it necessary,” retorted Sherlock impatiently. “Seeing as John is already married, how many people’s weddings do you think I would willingly attend to?”

                “No, I don’t believe it. Really? Seriously?” Sally seemed to have problems comprehending what she had just learned.

                Greg understood her. He had also needed time to realize Sherlock hadn’t joked when he had invited him to his wedding with Molly.

                “Yeah, seriously. And as for the gift, the case was for you. For Molly there was a promise to get you back in time and in one piece,” sighed Greg.

***

                John was an oasis of serenity. He survived three tours in Afghanistan, eighteen months under the same roof with Sherlock, then two years of his absence, he survived preparations for his own wedding, when his friend forced him to repeat everything for five times just to be sure everything would be perfect, so he really considered himself an experienced man who didn’t lose control easily.

                But right now his watch showed a quarter to five, the guests were already in the church and they were finishing chatter. John, as a best man, was prepared to fight a crisis, planning silently a few versions of excuses why the ceremony would be delayed. At the same time he was wondering how to murder Sherlock when he would finally arrive. After the wedding, of course.

                John was worried a bit that he would also have to deal with nervous, maybe hysterical Molly, but one glance at the bride assured him that his fear was groundless. Molly Hooper was about to marry _Sherlock Holmes,_ for God’s sake, so of course a triviality like the groom being late didn’t affect her at all. Molly did play subconsciously with her bouquet, but when John asked kindly if everything was alright, she   just nodded with a little nervous smile and kept waiting patiently, leaving calling and worrying to John.

***

                Greg was determined to keep his promise. Well, the ‘in one piece’ bit was a moot point right now, but at least he wanted to be on time. By the way he proved to be an excellent driver, maneuvering in London traffic jam.

                He braked in front of the church just as the bells started ringing, calling for the mass. Perfect. Sherlock jumped out of the car before they even properly stopped. He flicked his jacket and ran to the church vestibule, but before he managed to make one more step, someone grabbed him by his shoulder and stopped him.

                “John.” The detective growled in irritation, turning around to see his friend.

                Molly, who was waiting by the door, wanted to approach them, a bit confused, but firm, but John gestured her to stop, meaning he would handle the situation. The bride waited patiently.

                “Where the hell have you been?” The doctor saw spots on Sherlock’s shirt and groaned. “No, no, I didn’t sign for this.”

                “John, stop fussing, there is no time for that! Where do you have my shirt?” Sherlock turned and smiled reassuringly to Molly. The woman nodded in understanding, unconcerned by John’s nervous whispering.

                “I don’t have! Here’s your vest and jacket, put them on.” The doctor grabbed said items from a bench and threw them to Sherlock. “No, leave the trousers, you will not undress to pants in here,” he added loud enough for Molly to hear and burst into laughter.

                “As for me you can go the way you are,” she said, amused. Sherlock stood back to her, so she didn’t see his shirt.

                “No, he cannot,” denied John and took a closer look of his friend.

                The vest saved them. When buttoned, it covered the spots rather well, along with a tie. The tie was a reason of many quarrels with Sherlock, so John was secretly pleased that it was essential and Sherlock couldn’t argue now. Well, Sherlock was too busy chatting about the case he had just solved to even notice that tie. When John pointed out that enjoying work while one’s own wedding was a bit NOT GOOD, the detective replied with all sincerity.

                “I’m married to my work, John, remember?”

                “Well, so you are about to become a bigamist.”

                “You can get away with much more, when you have Mycroft behind your back,” Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. “Molly, are you ready? I’ll be waiting at the other side of the church,” he winked to his fiancée and went inside to sneak to the altar.

***

                Of course she was ready. At the news of her wedding, one half of her friends doubted her sanity, and the other sighed ‘ _finally’_ in relief.  Molly preferred the latter. So she walked calmly down the aisle, alone, feeling the spiritual presence of her father, who should be giving her away, right to Sherlock. He was waiting for her, slightly panting, as she noticed.

                The ceremony was smooth and surprisingly normal. John had everything perfect, including Sherlock, who looked a bit like a child on a school ceremony, dressed in an elegant outfit and told to behave. The association would be accurate, if it wasn’t what Sherlock usually wore. Nevertheless, he _behaved._ And maybe he was even hungry, Molly wondered lazily, playing with a new ring on her finger.

                “Married to your work, hmm?” she asked Sherlock, when they were alone for a moment.

                Sherlock smiled at her, happily and sincerely.

                “Well, technically speaking, you are a part of my work, aren’t you? So...”

                “Don’t finish that,” Molly warned him with supposedly serious tone.

                Because Sherlock kept fumbling around his collar, as if something irritated him, Molly grabbed his tie and loosened it. Sherlock froze and Molly was about to burst into laughter, wondering what he had thought about, when she saw what the tie was hiding and sighed in resignation. Then she softened and kissed Sherlock to let him know she wasn’t angry. After all, she had just gotten her little star from the sky. And it was as _normal_ as it could be, when Molly Hooper became Molly Holmes. This kind of attractions were included with Sherlock. And she knew what she was getting herself into.

 

 

Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think :)


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